


Hobbies

by FalseProphet (Batmanthegroomer)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Cybertron Realized, Transformers: More than Meets the Eye
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanthegroomer/pseuds/FalseProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone needs hobbies, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hobbies

**Author's Note:**

> Fortress Maximus drabble for evilhasnever on Tumblr.
> 
> Time Period: Post War, months after the launch of the Lost Light

He frowned hard as he lifted the object closer to his optics. He had fairly exceptional vision but he was having trouble with this particular project.

His surprisingly nimble and lithe fingers worked around the object, twisting and ensuring everything was set properly. The object was turned over, belly up, and Fort Max narrowed his vision field in concentration.

He lowered one hand and fished around in his lap for the next piece. Jagged edges bumped his fingers but he knew the size and shape of the piece he needed. It was hidden, buried in the sea of pieces in his lap.

His optics never moved from the object, as if looking away might cause it to shatter. A triumphant smile crossed his features and he lifted the piece delicately.

He slid the piece into place with all the care a medic would show a spark. Once it was properly adjoined one of his finger tips was replaced by a small tube of adhesive. He oh so carefully glued the final piece into place.

For a few moments he didn’t move, not even to vent properly. The item in his hands was still so fragile. He trusted his builder’s instincts about when the project was done.

Slowly he smiled wider. He stretched just a little from his berth and set the model ark on a shelf. His lap was filled with orange parts that would eventually make up three more ships.

He felt it was really the absolute least he could do, especially since his PTSD was the reason they were shattered in the first place.

But it did give him something else to think about. It reminded him of happier times. He picked up another piece and set to work.


End file.
